The Ice King Origins
by Stratsfoe
Summary: We all witnessed how Simon Petrikov became the Ice King through his secret tapes. But what happened to him when the camera wasn't rolling? What happened over that course of a 1000 years? Is the Ice Kingdom really what it appears to be? Art by CountANDRA. Jack the Frost King is a character that I made up for Adventure Time a long while ago.
1. Chapter 1

Simon Petrikov, before and after the Great Mushroom War.

* * *

"Hello, my name is Simon Petrikov. I am recording this tape so that people will know my story. I was studying to be an antiquarian of ancient artifacts. Now I never believed in the supernatural stuff myself, just had a fascination with superstitions. But everything changed when I came into contact with this item." "After purchasing this crown from an old dock worker in northern Scandinavia, I brought it home and excitedly showed it to my fiancée Betty, and put it on my head, just for a laugh or something. And that's when it started, the visions… I fought with them… shouted at them until I realized it wasn't real it was the crown! I quickly took it off, and saw my fiancée standing in front of me, looking at me with such contempt. What had I said? What had I done when I wore the crown? All I know is that I never saw Betty again."

Simon turned off the camera for he wanted to examine the crown further. After a painstakingly long night of observation, which resulted in failure, Simon gave up, and called it a night. However, when Simon tried to go to sleep, he was met with horrifying nightmares. He knew it was the crown just playing with his mind, but he couldn't wake. He dreamed that he was floating in a pitch black room, surrounded by nothingness. But then, out of nowhere, the room lit up like a Christmas light, and a dark, shrouded, menacing figure appeared in the room with Simon.

"W-what are you!?"Simon screamed.

"You know what I am mortal," the figure replied.

"I can tell you the secrets… the secrets of the Ice and Snow. Hehehe, the power of the crown can save you with its frost. You know this to be true mortal. Listen to the crown and you may just live," said the figure.

"What are you talking about!?" Simon shouted.

The creature began to laugh maniacally. The disturbing laughter woke Simon. He woke up panting and shaking, trying to catch his breath. He got up, and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water in his face. He didn't want fall back asleep after that. But when he looked into the mirror, he noticed something… something that he could not explain. His skin… it had started to turn blue. He thought maybe he was seeing things; maybe the crown was playing tricks on him again. He stood there, staring at his reflection for what seemed like days until he finally realized, it was no trick, his skin was turning a shade of pale blue. He also noticed that he felt abnormally warm. He went to check on the temperature in his apartment. But when he got to the thermostat, he noticed something that sent chills up and down his spine. The thermostat read that it was 5 degrees Celsius.

"_That can't be right, can_ _it?"_ Simon thought to himself. _"I feel like I'm on fire."_

He was burning up, he had to take off his jacket and turn the temperature down even more. Simon then began to see the visions again. He frantically tried to take off the crown, but he realized that… he wasn't wearing the crown. He was beginning to see the visions all the time, whether he was wearing the crown or not… He needed to record these events. He went to his closet and got out his video camera. He set the camera on the tripod, grabbed the remote control, and pressed record.

"Since then, I now see the visions all the time, whether or not I wear the crown. They tell me the secrets, the secrets of the Ice and Snow that the power of the crown will save me with its frost. I don't yet know what this means. As you can see my skin is beginning to turn blue, my body temperature has been lowering at a supernatural rate, to what is now about thirty degrees Celsius. I don't know when it will end… I'm really scared."

* * *

Simon got up from his chair and shut the camera off. He then heard a voice… but he can't make since of the voice. It was to distorted and muffled. It sounded as if someone was whispering into his ear.

"Hello?" Simon asked nervously.

He was met with a horrifying reply that sent him into a deep sleep. When Simon awoke in his dream scape, he was in that same room from his previous dream, but this time the figure was not there, only its voice.

"Simon," it said, "Do it, just fucking do it you coward."

"DO WHAT!?" Simon screeched backed,

"What the hell do you want me to do!? Why won't you stop!?" Simon's question was answered with terrifying images of his fiancée being tortured to death, children's charred bodies and their horrific screams, and the sight of a mushroom cloud pealing the flesh from his bones.

"Stop, stop. Please... please stop!"

Simon woke up a few hours later gasping for air. He took in a few deep breathes, looked around at his apartment and seen that it was all just a dream. "Thank glob," he said to himself.

When he began to raise his hand to run his fingers through his hair, he noticed something odd. He had grown a beard!

_"How long was I out for?" _He thought.

He got up and went to the kitchen for he was in dire need of something to drink. He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. But the water immediately froze when he touched the bottle. The same thing happened to every other drink that he touched. This scared him at first, but it grew tiresome after about the fifth bottle.

"Oh come on!" He shouted. Simon then noticed something atop his head when he seen his reflection in a frozen bottle of water. He… he was wearing the crown. When had he put it on?

_"I must have been out for at least six hours, and I do not remember putting this damn thing on before I passed out." _He thought.

Simon was unable to sleep for the three weeks because of those damnable visions. That damn voice didn't help either. Every passing second felt like an eternity. He decided that he wanted to record his thoughts. He just wanted to keep himself occupied. To divert his thoughts away from those visions. Those glob awful visions. So he went to search for his camera. He looked all around the apartment for it, anywhere and everywhere he could possibly think that he would have put it.

"Where the fuck is that thing!?" He yelled.

After hours of aimless searching, he noticed that… he never moved it. The camera was sitting in the same place that it was when he last recorded. This wasn't good, he was losing track of time. How much time did he lose track of exactly? A day, a week, a fucking month! He was having trouble remembering anything. Places he had been, people he'd seen.

_"Oh no."_ He thought. _"I... I can't remember what Betty looks like. No. No. No dammit No!" _Where was Betty's picture? Where had it gone?

"Betty! Betty!" He screamed.

He looked around for hours, but he could not find the picture.

"No. I've... I've lost her. Lost her forever." He sobbed.

Simon walked to his chair, sat down, and wept. He cried for so long that he could hardly breath. He calmed himself down and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked up and couldn't believe what he seen. It was the picture of Betty, sitting right in front him. The picture he had wept for so long over.

"O-Oh thank you! Thank you glob! Thank you, t-thank you." He cried.

Simon composed himself, pulled the remote from his pocket, and quickly hit record.

"I know my mind is… changing, but I'm already too far gone to know what to do. I want people to know that if I do things… do things that hurt anyone please… please forgive me."

Simon switched the camera off, walked over to it, and kicked it over. He was frustrated; he hadn't slept in three weeks… three long, restless weeks.

_"So tired. So very tired." _He thought.

About five months down this sickening path, Simon had had it. He wanted to quit… he wanted to give in. The visions kept on, they never stopped, not for a moment. They wouldn't even let him take a piss without showing him some new horrific event. The voice was the worst part of it all though. It wasn't like the visions… No it was not, it only talked to Simon when it felt like it. But the voice was not welcome when it did speak. No… it was never welcome. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon would tell it. What was it? What could that damn thing be? Was it a man? Was it a woman? Was it the devil, commanding him to do his biding? What the hell was it? At this point, it did not matter… nothing mattered anymore. Simon would try to think of his beloved Betty, just to silence that damn voice… if only for a second. But her beautiful face would be replaced almost immediately with horrid images. Simon was done. He had exhausted all his strength… he had none left to fight the crown with. He gave up. He gave up hope of ever seeing Betty again. Simon went to his closet, opened it up, found his hard metal case, and pulled out a pistol. He loaded the weapon and said his goodbyes. Good bye to his apartment, his career, his life. But most of all… he said goodbye to Betty. His one and only love… Betty.

"Betty, if… if you can hear me. I'm… I'm sorry, so very sorry," He cried.

He shuffled a round into the chamber, stuck the gun down his throat… and fired.

* * *

Simon woke up in a daze sometime later, unsure how long it had truly been, to the sound of maniacal cackling. At first he thought he was in hell for committing suicide. He may as well have been. After the laughter stopped the voice said,

"I will not let you die mortal. You will suffer. Hahahahahahaha!"

This is when Simon knew he was insane, truly insane, for... he had begun to laugh with that sadistic fuck that had inhabited his brain for such a long time.

Three more months passed since Simon had tried to kill himself. He kept trying over the course of that time, but to no avail. He tried to hang himself… the rope simply snap under the pressure. He tried to jump from his building, but his beard made him take flight at the last moment. He tried to shove his inhumanly sharp fingers into his eyes. He shoved so hard and so deep that... that the water that poured from his eyes turned to blood and began to gush and splatter all over his apartment floor. The wounds simply healed over time. And he was given his vision back.

"How can I torment you human If you have no eyes?" The voice mocked.

He was out of options… he had to live with this damn curse that had befallen him. In an effort to keep what sanity he had left, Simon picked up his video camera, and recorded one last time.

"Just watch over me until I can find my way out of this labyrinth in my brain and regain my sanity! And then maybe Betty, my princess, maybe you will love me again. *sob* Please love me again Betty! *sob*"

The voice continued to taunt him with visions of Betty dying, dying in the most horrendous ways possible. But then, just as Simon thought it couldn't get any worse, the voice began to repeat a sentence over and over again. A sentence that would haunt Simon for the rest of his sane life.

_"I'm a prisoner of my own hell, I'm a prisoner of my own hell, I'm a prisoner of my own hell." _

Simon did nothing to stop the voice, he just listen to it say that same sentence over and over and over.

* * *

One day, Simon was startled by the sound of a siren. He chose to ignore it at first because he thought it was just another drill. Moscow had had many for quite some time now. But when he began to hear screams and cries, he jolted up and dashed to the window. He looked to the sky and seen an object falling towards the Moscow clock tower. He then thought to himself,

_"Is this it. Is this the end?"_

"Perfect chaos…" His thoughts were interrupted by the voice.

That comment broke him from his trance just in time for him to witness the horror that followed.

Simon Petrikov witnessed the Apocalypse. It was Armageddon in Moscow. He was able to let out a bone chilling, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" before being shrouded in a veil of frost that would protect him from the explosion, but still force him to see all of the people that were incinerated by the blast.


	2. Chapter 2

Three months later…

* * *

"The sunset, it's, beautiful."

"Almost as beautiful as you." Simon replied.

Betty looked to him with flush red cheeks and reluctantly said,

"That's so sweet, but… now, it's time to wake up." She climbed on top of him, lowered her head slowly to his ear and whispered, "Wake up Simon… wake up."

He didn't understand.

"Wake up? W-what do you mean wake up?" he asked.

She moved her lips over to his and kissed them gently. She then rose up, and looked down at him. He smiled at her, but she offered no response. She simply stared back at him with empty, emotionless eyes.

"Betty?" he asked "Betty are you OK?"

Her eyes then began to bubble and melt from their sockets, making Simon scream in horror.

"Betty!" he screeched.

Her skin started to char and fall from her bones. Simon could do nothing but watch as his beloved Betty withered and died. She fell into his arms gasping for air, her now burned and deformed body twisting and contorting in inhuman ways.

"No! Nooo!" he shouted.

She looked to him with her hollowed gaze and said in a very dark tone, "Wake up!"

* * *

Simon woke to the sound of the voice giggling softly.

"Did you have a good rest mortal?" the voice mocked.

Simon ignored the crown; he was used to that sick bastard toying with his mind. He knew it was pointless to fight back. He stood and slowly approached the window. Simon saw what no one should ever have to bear witness to. Moscow, his home, was decimated. The ruins of the city were covered in snow and ash. The only building left seemingly unharmed was Simon's apartment. And to top it all off, there was no fresh air. The smell of cooking flesh inhabited every last pocket of air in the city. Simon wanted to stop his breathing. He didn't want to have to live with the knowledge that the only source of air left for him to breathe would be filled with the remains of all the men, women, and children that had been incinerated by the bombs. The very thought that every breath he took in was littered with dead, cooked skin made him sick.

"Do you see human? Do you see your capacity for murder? Murder… murder of one another. You slaughter each other in droves each day and yet, I am the bad guy. Am I really so much worse than your 'government'? Your leaders? The people that are suppose to protect you and the ones you love? The people that decided to release those weapons of mass destruction upon you? The ones that quarrel over money, land, and pride over the protection of their own?! Am I?!" the voice asked. Simon said nothing. "Answer me mortal!" the voice shouted.

"Stop, please… stop."

"ANSWER ME!" the voice sounded enraged. Why was it angry? What had Simon done to make it so furious?

"No, no... I-I." Simon wept. The visions were getting worse, one right after another, the next more powerful the last, some almost take him off his feet.

"STOP! Please… please." Simon pleaded.

He fell to his knees, sobbing. He couldn't stop. His tears trickled down his cheeks burning with rage. "Please… s-stop." He sobbed.

"Hehehe… how's Betty, Simon?"

Simon stopped crying, he stopped at the sound of her name. All of his fear left him. All that was left was… anger, hate for the crown. Simon's eyes turned a crimson red. It said her name. It… it mocked him with her name, her face…

"AAAAAAHHHHH!" Simon jerked the crown from his head and hurled it out the window.

His eyes returned to normal instantly as he noticed what was happening. He had flung the crown out the window.

"No!" he shouted.

He got off of his knees and rushed to the window. He looked to the streets, but his efforts to see where the crown had fallen were futile. The crown was nowhere in sight.

"Where is it?! Where is it?!" Simon shouted.

There was an evident fear in his voice, but… why? Why was he so afraid of losing the crown? This thing that has tortured him for so long, forcing him to witness horrible visions and listen to the horrid screams of burning children, it was as if he lost a part of himself. He HAD to find it.

Simon grabbed his coat and the pistol for good measure, hurried down stairs to the doorway, and headed out into the ruins of Moscow.

* * *

He had to stop and stare in absolute awe at the destruction that had befallen his beloved home.

"My… my home, the… the motherland, it's… gone. It can't be gone. It… it just can't be," he said in disbelief.

Simon, unable to cope with the cold, excruciatingly painful fact that his life was falling apart right in front of him, fell to his knees and stared blankly off into the distance. He kneeled in disbelief for hours and hours until he was unable to hold himself up. His knees grew weak and he fell back hard, letting his skull collide violently with the pavement. Blood seeped from the wound that the collision had caused, filling up the drain on the street corner. The blood moved slowly along the drain while Simon watched intently, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a dark headed little girl poke her head around the street corner. She looked at him with piercingly red eyes. Her eyes sent chills up and down his spine, he felt as if she were staring into his very soul. Her eyes scanned his body up and down, but her attention was quickly diverted by the sight of his blood.

She fell to her knees, lowered her head over the puddle the blood had formed, and took in many deep breaths, savoring the stench of the blood. It had been so long since she had fed. The very sight of it made her drool. She lowered her head further and began to drink. Simon watched in horror as an expression of pleasure and satisfaction worked its way onto the child's face.

_"Aw… disgusting," _He thought. _"W-what is she doing?" _

The little girl raised her head and gazed at the sky. The blood ran down her neck and seeped into her cloths, staining her pale white skin. Simon raised his head and attempted to speak, but before he could, the child had darted off into the dark. His head fell to the ground and he let himself slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

A few hours later Simon awoke to find that the day had passed and night had fallen. He shifted his head left to right, observing the strange and unnatural darkness that surrounded him. A cold breeze blew past and made him quiver. He tried to stand, but he was unable to hold himself up. His vision was blurred, his stomach ached, and his head was throbbing. The wound he had sustained made him ill. He fell to his knees and vomited violently for a good thirty seconds. After the burning in his throat subsided, he forgot about his sickening stomachache, splitting headache, and blurred vision. All of his other worries left him, he forgot them all, and focused all of his attention on finding the crown. The crown that had tormented him for so long, he hated it, hated that crown with every fiber of his being but… he had to find it. What compelled him to find this item, why was he so desperate to find it? Why?

He searched everywhere for it, frantically tossing brick and stone in every direction, searching through piles of rubble and mounds of ash, praying that he would find it.

"Oh c'mon, c'mon!" he said, "WHERE IS IT!"

He searched for hours and hours but to no avail, and just when it seemed as though all hope was lost, that he had lost the crown forever, he noticed a tiny glimmer out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and seen a bright shining piece of gold. He stood quickly and bolted over to the shimmering light, hoping and praying that it was what he thought it was.

"Please, please be it, please," he begged.

After delving through the enormous pile of rubble, Simon found his beloved crown. He kissed it, and placed it atop his head.

"I missed you too Simon." The voiced chuckled.

He didn't care that it mocked him; he was just relieved to have it back.

Simon's stomach pains altered to hunger.

_"I'm starving,_" he thought.

He knew that his apartment fridge was vacant; he needed to eat something, but what? The city is decimated; no grocery store would have survived… or would it? Simon began searching in hopes that one had.

* * *

Simon walked the cold, desolate streets of Moscow, alone, with only the torturous, maniacal laughter of the voice to keep him company.

"Why did I want you back, so that you could piss me off more?" He asked.

The voice did not respond, it simply kept laughing. Simon rummaged through every building (every building that was intact) that he come across, hopeful that he would find something, anything, to eat.

"Bah! Forget it… I'm done," Simon scorned.

He fell to the ground in exhaustion. He was famished, he couldn't carry himself any longer, and his body gave out on him. While lying on the ground, he noticed a sign atop a building, flickering on and off. The sign read _"__C__упермаркет__", _meaning supermarket. He mustarded what strength he had left, stood, and made his way to the building.

Simon didn't bother to check for marauders, he was too tired and hungry to be bothered by such trivial matters. He moved throughout the store, desperately searching every shelf, hopeful that he would find something, anything, to stave off his grumbling belly. After searching every shelf, he noticed an open door with the words "employees only" scrawled across it. He dashed to the room, and seen what can only be described as a treasure trove of canned goods. For the first time in Glob knows how long, Simon was happy, so happy that… he actually smiled. He charged over to the pile of cans closest to him, and grabbed the can labeled "Beans n' Wieners", he never did care much for vegetables, so he ignored the cans labeled "asparagus" and dug in. Simon gorged himself with every can with a label that insinuated that there was meat inside, but can you really blame him? After all, he hadn't eaten in three whole months. Simon's good mood was cut short when he heard rustling and groans coming from the freezer. He looked over at the stainless steel door that inclosed whatever horror that awaits for Simon lurking behind it. He slowly removed the pistol from his pocket, forgetting that he even had it until now, and quietly approached the freezer door. He cautiously motioned his left hand over the door handle, raised his weapon with the other, and gradually opened the door. He timidly scanned the room with his pure white eyes, trying to make out what was making those noises.

"H-hello?" he stuttered.

There was no answer, so naturally he assumed that the sounds he had heard were just more tricks being played on him by the crown.

_"Ha ha, very funny," _he thought.

"As much as I enjoy fucking with you Simon, that wasn't me." The voice replied.

"Oh yes, I-" before Simon could finish, he was tackled by a hideous, burnt creature. The beast snarled and tried to gnaw off Simon's face, unfortunately for Simon, the pistol had been knocked from his hand and had slid across the room. He tried to keep the writhing beast at bay, but he was still too weak to fight it off. Simon managed to get himself out of the creature's grasp just long enough for him to reach his weapon. He shuffled a shell into the chamber, and fired three times into the beast's head. Its lifeless corpse fell to the cold, unforgiving floor with a hard thud.

"Oh my Grod, Oh my Grod," Simon sighed with relief whilst standing up to mock the creature. "Ha ha, yeah! Suck on that bitch!" He shouted with glee.

* * *

Simon then began to hear laughter coming from outside. He thought it may have been the crown playing tricks on him again, but after this little encounter he wanted to be sure. He stepped over the beastly carcass and made his way out of the building. Simon poked his head out of the store window to see a band of marauders pushing around that same dark haired little girl from earlier that evening.

"Isn't that… the little girl from earlier?" Simon asked himself.

Simon couldn't help but be horrified over what the marauders where saying.

"I haven't been laid in a while, what's say you n' me get busy little girl?" the large one said.

"Nah man I seen her first, so I gets first fuckins."

"Well why don't we just take'er at the same time? I ain't ever done DP before."

"Why don't you both drop your pants, and I make you two dweebs fuck each other," the little girl snapped.

"O hoo, little'en got a mouth on'er."

"Maybe someone should teach her how to use it," the large one added with a mischievous smirk on his face.

Simon couldn't listen to it any longer, he had to act.

* * *

**I know, I'm a mean person. Giving you guys one hell of a cliff hanger.**

**Stay tuned for chapter three!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know it's been awhile, and I had originally planned on releasing this chapter on the date that the world was supposed to end, but that didn't work out now did it? Well you guys and gals don't want to read this, do you? You want to get down to business with Chapter 3, so enjoy my peeps!**

* * *

Simon stepped out from the shattered remains of the Supermarket and came to the rescue of the little girl. Bit by bit he made his way down the street, approaching the marauders as slowly as possible. It seemed as though the street had much expanded further, it was as though the marauders were further away than they had been. Simon's nerves were getting to him; he wanted to disregard the illusion of the street expanding to be nothing more than the crown toying with his mind, but he knew, he knew that it was all him. It was his eyes playing tricks on him this time, not the crown. He tried to overlook the growing trepidation in his heart, but each step he took made him more hesitant. His stomach churned with apprehension as he put his back to the wall, slide to the edge of the wall, and poked his head around the corner. He seen the averagely proportioned man shove the little girl to the ground as the larger man began to unbuckle his pants.

"_What the hell am I doing?"_ Simon thought.

His stomach was killing him by this point. It rumbled and churned with panic. You have to understand, Simon had never even been in a fight with another person, and now he was about to approach two decent sized men, and another giant of a man and demand that they not rape this little girl. He trembled with absolute terror, but he then thought back, thought back over the months and months that this crown had tortured him and thought,

"_W-what do I-I have to be scared of? What else can possibly be done to me? What can these people do that this crown hasn't already done?"_

Contemplating over this made him feel slightly better, but it didn't help much. The little girl shouted and Simon poked his head back around the corner. She was kicking and screaming trying to break the man's grip, but it was all in vain, she couldn't escape, all she could do was scream as the large man got on his knees and grabbed the little girl by the head and pulled her toward his crotch. Simon couldn't watch anymore, he yanked out his pistol, made sure a bullet was shuffled into the chamber, took a deep breath, and sprinted out from his corner out into the open.

Simon took another deep breath and shouted,

"Get your filthy fucking hands off her!"

The lead marauder turned his head to see Simon pointing his weapon at the large man's back.

"Well, look at what we got here," scoffed the lead man. "We got ourselves a hero!"

The large one stood and turned to face Simon who was now aiming at his head. His pants fell to the ground as he tried to approach Simon. This made him stumble a bit and fall backwards.

"Get the hell up and put your pants back on." The lead man demanded.

"Right boss," the large one quickly replied.

He stood and pulled his pants back on, then looked to Simon who was now trembling violently, all the while the little girl was huddled in the corner in pure fright. Simon tried to keep his hand steady and his face serious, but it was hard to keep a straight face being as frightened as he was. The large man began to approach Simon, a mistake on his part, as Simon squeezed the trigger multiple times and granted many of the bullets missed, but two managed to hit their mark just fine. The large man fell to his knees and shrieked in pain at the led that had pierced his thigh and arm. The average sized man and the lead man looked at Simon in astonishment for a moment; they didn't imagine that he had it in him. Simon tried to fire once more but unfortunately for him, his pistol had jammed.

"Come on you peace of shit, work!" Simon exclaimed.

"Waste this motherfucker!" the leader shouted.

* * *

The two men left standing jerked out pistols and pointed them at Simon. Simon froze, he… he didn't know what to do. He tried to get his legs to move but it was as if his feet were plastered to the ground around him. He was fixed into place, he could not move.

"Hmhmhm… the human condition, it fucking sickens me." The voice laughed.

Simon's life flashed before his very eyes, he saw himself in a kingdom of ice surrounded by his… loyal subjects? And he saw himself group hugging a flock of penguins and crying himself to sleep muttering some words under his breath and…

"Betty?" He whispered softly.

The two men began to let out a hail storm of bullets. Simon looked up for an instant to face his death with some dignity. The bullets seemed to move in slow motion as Simon's vision began to darken. He thought that he was beginning to faint again, but…

"_No… this, this is something else," _he thought.

A veil of ice began to shroud over him, just like before, just like when… it happened. Every bullet fired stuck inside the ice veil. The marauders stared in awe and fright, even the giant writhing in pain on the ground rose to see this spectacle. The little girl wanted to back away, but her curiosity outweighed her fear. The veil lowered to reveal Simon unharmed and… expressionless. He wasn't angry nor afraid, just… emotionless. Simon shifted his eyes to the lead marauder, lifted up his hand, and wiggled his index finger back and forth in what is usually considered a taunting action, but in the way Simon preformed it, it just seemed… empty. Simon, in a flash, slid over to the lead man and said in a extremely disturbing voice,

"DIE…"

On his hand formed a razor sharp ice blade that he swiftly thrusted into the torso of the lead man. Blood splattered over Simon's face as the leader fell to his knees, and then to the ground, slipping off the blade as his body collided with the concrete. The little girl shouted as Simon whipped his head around to face the other man. The marauder raised his weapon and began to fire. Simon zigged and zaggged at blinding speeds until he reached the marauder. Simon came face to face with the man and before he could let off another round, Simon grabbed his arm, pushed it away, and shoved his blade into the man's leg. The marauder fell to the ground and shrieked in pain. The giant tried to reach for his pistol, but Simon stopped him. Simon turned the large man over and brought his blade down into his stomach, pulled it slowly up to his neck, and then stared at the giant with a cold, dead expression. He stared at the giant for 20 or 30 seconds, then finally said

"This is only a fraction of what hell I've been put through."

His blade divided into two, formed hooks on the ends, and split the giant in half. The other marauder witnessed the giant die, and frantically tried to crawl away. Before he could even make it to the pile of rubble behind him, he was pushed to the ground by Simon. Simon looked down at the man for a second, then kneeled down beside his ear, and asked

"What's the worst way you can imagine dying?"

The man tried to struggle away, but Simon just held him there with little effort.

"Please," the man cried, "Please don't kill me, please, please!"

"So you're comfortable taking a life, but when your own is threatened, you whimper like a child?" Simon asked.

"As I said before, the human condition... it's sickening," the voice scorned.

The man continued to whimper as Simon formed a sort of shackle on the man's wrists and ankles that bound him to the ground. Simon's blade flashed away as he picked up the man's head and said

"You may want to keep your head up."

The man complied and kept his head up as best he could. Simon formed two icicles, both just at eye level with the man and laughed

"Good luck, hahaha…"

The man writhed and twisted, frantically trying to break the ice shackles that Simon had placed on him, but all he managed to do was tire himself. Simon approached the little girl and asked

"Are you alright?"

She didn't reply. She just watched in horror as the man tried to keep his eyes from sliding down onto the razor sharp icicles. Simon looked back to the man, stared for a moment, then looked back to the little girl.

"What's your name?" He asked.

She didn't answer.

"Look I'm just tryi…"

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Simon looked back to see his handy work. The man's head fell down onto the icicles, piercing both of his eyes as his head slid ever so slowly down them. His body twisted and contorted violently as he screeched in agony. Finally, the screaming subsided, and the marauder was dead. Simon looked back to the little girl who was huddled in the corner furthest from Simon. He tried to approach her, but she just kept huddling further and further into her corner. Simon realized that she was traumatized from almost being raped, and witnessing three rather gruesome murders, so he backed away and gave her some space. He stood for a moment staring at what he had done. He was amazed with himself, amazed that he, little old Simon Petrikov, could do what he had just done. He wasn't exactly proud, but he wasn't sorry for the men he had just killed either. But could you really blame him?

_"The were pieces of shit anyhow,"_ he thought. He looked back to the little girl. She seemed to be a little more relaxed now, so he tried again

"W-what's your name?" he asked.

She still didn't respond.

"How about I introduce myself?" he asked.

There was still no response from the little girl.

"I am Simon Petrikov," he said, "What's your name."

She remained silent.

"This is where you introduce yourself." Simon said softly.

"I'm… I'm Marceline…" she mumbled.

"I'm sorry, you're who now?" Simon asked.

"I'm Marceline!" She yelped.

Simon backed away slightly. He tried his best not to frighten or agitate Marceline any further. We all know how Marceline can be when she's angry.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Marceline." Simon said quietly.

Marceline didn't reply.

"W-where, where are your parents?" Simon asked.

"Mom died…" She replied quietly.

"Oh… I'm… I'm sorry." He said. "What about your father?"

She glared at him, and then looked back down to the ground.

"Daddy… Daddy's evil." She claimed.

"Evil?"

Simon was dumbfounded that a little girl could say that her own father is evil.

"Well, do you want to come and stay with me?" he asked.

Marceline looked up at him but he didn't stop.

"I have one of the only habitual places left in the city, if you wa…"

"No, thank you." Marceline interrupted, "Mommy said not to trust strangers," she looked down at the now dead marauder leader, "Mommy was right."

"Uh… well I am the one who saved you from them."

"You just want my stuff." Marceline interjected.

"What stuff?" Simon asked.

"Oops." She said, "Never mind."

"Okay." He said, "I'm going home, m'kay?" "I'll see you later?" Simon asked. Marceline didn't reply, so Simon began to walk away, but before he got too far Marceline shouted

"Wait!"

Simon turned back.

"Yes?" He asked.

"If I come with you… can I bring my stuff?" She asked.

"Yes, you can bring your 'stuff'." He said.

"And you promise you won't do that (She points to the giant) to me?" She asked.

"Pinky swear?" Simon extends his pinky to her.

Marceline extends her pinky as well, connects her pinky to his, and shakes.

"You know you can't break a pinky promise… right?" She asked.

"I know." He said softly, "Come on, we had better get going."

"Oh and you have to carry my things." Marceline demanded,

"Why do I have to do that?" Simon asked.

"Because, that's what gentlemen do," she said, "At least, that's what Mommy told me they do."

Simon mold it over, looked back to Marceline who was now staring at him with big puppy dog eyes, and said

"Fine, show me were your stuff is." Marceline dragged Simon behind the building, and had him pick up her stuff.

"Alright, let's go." Simon said in a strained tone. Her 'stuff' was heavier than he'd thought.

"One more thing," Marceline said.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Can I ride on your back?" Marceline asked innocently.

He hesitated for a moment then decided

"Why not, hop on."

Marceline jumped onto Simon's back, and with that settled, Simon began the long trek back to his apartment, with Marceline riding him like a horse, and him carry all of her 'things' as if he were a pack mule.

* * *

**Just a quick update, I'm starting my finals this week in school and I know I just came back, but I may not be able to type next chapter as quickly as I'd like to, but that's also not a guarantee that I won't be able to write the next chapter soon. **

**Until then, stay awesome and stay crazy my peeps! **


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